Long Pitiful Poems
Long Pitiful Poems. Below are the most popular long Pitiful by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Pitiful poems by poem length and keyword.
The mystical allure
Of an island in the sun
Embraced by deepest waters
Of sparkling sapphire blue
A tranquil sanctum
A secret retreat
A calling from within
Where one day two sweet lovers meet
And on this Isle their hearts entwined
Where promises and vows were made
A love eternal
A love divine
A love that stood the test of time
Now all alone I live here still
Known as the loner on the hill
For one night many years ago
A storm it raged and roared below
My darling he was swept away
How I survived I’ll never know
And now each night I hear him call
In poignant guise of whale songs
Pitiful songs
A haunting refrain
Of love long gone
As they call out his name
For now I am ancient
All withered and frail
The only words muttered
Incomprehensible now
These mutterings of a senseless soul
Professing her deepest love
Driven to distraction
Oh so many years ago
For tonight she's truly ready
It is now her time to go
So making her way down
Over perilous rocks below
He will surely come to greet
Her loving heart doth tell her so
She hears his songs of love
From so many years ago
The sea it gently takes her
Wrapped within its sparkling waves
Tentatively transporting her
Deep down into her watery grave
Now every night their songs of love
Enchant and mesmerise the Isle
Two lovers dance forevermore
To songs of whales
Sweet songs of love
Written 21st February 2020
Contest Strand Select X
Sponsor Brian Strand
HONORABLE MENTION
Blood-stained poppies mark the day that human
sacrifice did harden the skins of the less murderous mass
for such a brutal aghast affair, how the God all mighty
would formidable bear witness to grief beyond repair
Out into the fields, neither would yield-with bullets they
would tear but what would a stealthy, shrewd general care if many
died on duty which left a nation dumbfounded by the levity and
gravity of a war that was deemed
to be of grandness, valiant soldiers of fallacious valour
mercilessly gunned down and with
no gratification, them forsaken, while the gutless
general is less sanctimonious, pious in his approach for the
fighting did persist, until finally that last shot,
at last serenity in the calamitous storm, birdsong instead
of less fanciful peaceful flight, that night the serendipitous surviving
soldier did sleep so tight, a nation did succumb to pitiful sorrow
and pain-so the poppies do denote blood-stain and brutal,
grim, gutless gain
Great grace
Broken home broken heart
Family life just fell apart
Mother tried and did her best
Father took off failed the test
She an only child bullied at school
Battled embittered couldn’t follow a rule
She turned to drugs a way of escape
Lying in the gutter mouth agape
Needed grace
Eight months pregnant lying in the rain
The agony hitting her again and again
How did I get here who am I broken and torn
Emotions run deep the shame the scorn
Alone and afraid the answer was clear
End it end it all right now right here
Enters grace
Excruciating pain a feeble but gut wrenching shout
Then alone and with child she passed out
Somebody maybe an angel saw her lying there
Pitiful only a young girl desperately needing care
Paramedics came what an amazing statement
Mother alive baby born crying on a pavement
How many of us experienced this back against the wall
No way out considered maybe even decided, end it all
Sufficient grace
Note from the author. This story is based on fact.
Molly Brown
Molly Brown is the cutest girl in town
Twisting and twirling as she dances round
Dressed up in her glittery fairy gown
Everyone she gets to meet is spellbound.
Molly’s acrobatic and loves to clown
There's not a dry eye when she is around
Molly never appears wearing a frown
Not ever is her smile facing the ground.
With eyes bright as her diamanté crown
Fixed to her hair as she goes spinning round
Molly Brown brings joy and laughter to town
To little Molly life's merrily sound.
Molly loves swinging from branches hung down
Once a branch broke and she fell on a mound
Her pitiful cry was heard all round town
Worst of all mommy had Molly house bound.
21st April 2022
* * *
Nursery Rhyme 3 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Eve Roper
Friends?
Are we still friends?
Can we JUST be friends?!?
Oh such a horrid, charity-stained question!
What a keen and salient dagger it wields!
The pity that you wear like black lace finery,
Is as deadly and whetted a sword as any raised in battle ...
The patronizing look in your eyes presses on its hilt
With the agonizing weight of feigned cordiality,
To pierce the tender flesh of my hopes,
Deep and quick and precise.
Why ... why this last dose of bitter passion??
To ease your careless conscience?
All you've done is make the blade more jagged,
The wound more brutal and raw.
Now here I lay ...
Exhausted in spirit and sinews,
By what I now realize was lovemaking for clemency's sake ...
One last, tender moment to minimize the blow.
Shards of moonlight through the louvers,
Lay like broken pieces of porcelain on furrowed bedclothes,
As my passions bleed out at your feet,
Draining my heart of the realities
Of what I thought we had ...
What might have been, beyond friendship.
My love for you collects in a puddle of one-sided regrets,
And now this dreadful question makes all a travesty,
A mocking, cruel, pitiful farce ...
No, my love, I can NEVER be just ... your friend.
~ 1st Place ~ in the "My Friend, My Love" Poetry Contest, Julie Leigh Rodeheaver, Judge & Sponsor.
I wade into the water that is my aquatic sun,
suited to perform miracles, refusing reprieve until work is done.
I exist as a modern day Hercules, striving to discover my strength,
seeking beneath the surface, striving to greater lengths.
My arms tremor, causing ships to break apart,
during my exhale, all sailors start
to curse…
yet my grunt of thunder remains the worst.
My legs propel me forward, though possessing not one gill,
the underwater highway provides an ongoing thrill.
Mere mortals I glimpse at while stifling tidal waves,
as they struggle against the current, candidates to save.
Their bodies act as limp seaweed, very weak
while others remain bloated buoys, struggling to seek
a sliver of stamina, however slight,
their sun is not yet lit, they remain in a moonless night.
My ears discover the sirens, bursting into song-
they talk of candy sweets my appetite yeans to sail along.
However, my orb of strength is not yet found,
until then, I’m forbidden to go above ground.
Below in the underworld, Hades attempts to send
fingers of flame upon me, yet my armor shall not bend.
My joints ache,
my muscles quake,
yet the ember of faith I shall not forsake.
Eventually, I remain erect, not on bowed knees,
and have resisted pain’s pitiful pleas.
A son of Zeus reaches in to grasp my hand,
his grin stretching wider than the holy land.
His eyes are that of a seaweed sage,
with a chiseled exterior only Aphrodite could have made.
His words light my face with a single shining ray,
“You’ve completed your pool exercises for the day.
Are you ready for the gym?” he asks, hoping I should stay,
and I reply, “I’m in need of hot compresses today.”
I proceed to immerse myself in towels of steam,
while considering my ultimate dream
of strengthening my image, in the future I will see
the bountiful benefits of physical therapy.
Some people are poor and wish for riches others have earned
and gambling the little they have, their unrealistic expectations turn bitter:
how foolish, how shameful and how pitiful to see them pulling their hair...
beating their chest when they could have bought milk and bread!
Jealousy lives in that distorted mind sending off angry thoughts,
not sharing sympathetic feelings and give sincere compliments;
murders have been committed, lives ruined over this emotion
that can go into violent rages and feed any envious soul with poison!
This harmful feeling is seen in betrayal more than anything else, facts attest;
infidelity is also a factor to drive one insane destroying what was built on trust...
the weak ones suffer and pretend they are doing fine by hiding their wounds:
there'll come a time they'll have enough and explode to end their existence.
I had my moments of jealousy or envy, but they never became obsession and rage:
I let them go and found peace with myself admitting my guilt so appalling;
you can do likewise forgetting bitterness and realize you can't own everything:
it's strong temptation that causes unhappiness and the loss of friends or even love.
They say that you’re beautiful.
Gorgeous, pretty, even stunning
You brush it off, move on, it’s rather pitiful,
But it’s just another day… and you’ll keep running
They call you attractive, alluring and a knockout
You ignore it, compliment them instead and hope they don’t prod
It’s easier to tell a truth than to respond to a lie, no doubt?
You hide behind the jokes, the laughter, the facade
Just take the compliment they say, why is it so hard?
If they knew what it would mean they’d turn tail and run
For you to accept it, you’d have to be unscarred
Accept it you will, but that’s it, game over, let it all come undone
They’ll see through the hiding, the running and the fright,
The self-criticism, the comparisons, all the backlash
But when they look a little harder they’ll notice the light
A glowing ember that lies beneath all the ash
Let the mask fall away and the walls break
down,
The confidence, the hope, you’re starting to remember
They’re all waiting outside, you’re no longer bound
We’ve been here all along, your army of defenders
I am who I am despite what has happened to me.
I am not defined by the wounds I carry.
Within the weighty door, weary souls went;
as did I as a child of eight, to the silent sentience within…
Upon the stoutest oak they sat, worrying beads.
“Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee,”
The penitants, the prayerfull, the pitiful, rock.
The innocent observations of childhood.
Inward stares, upcaste eyes, open hearts, rock.
“Blessed art thou amongst women
and blessed is the fruit of thy womb…”
Beside masterpieces of goldleaf raised plaster pain,
they walk, worrying, burnished beads;
mindful of His journey “…Jesus.”
Each has a path they walk, weighted weary souls.
Yet, they remember in their hearts
His path and it’s toll.
The child in me remembers this in wonder.
Besceeching Mother Mary
to lift their weight, their toll. The Child in me
knows Mary.
eating again, glutton of cost
he crawled to embrace
the concept of everything, all
hugged to a chest spilling,
kissing vacuous stomach
slid up the slender flesh,
saliva made slugs
a viscous downpour of greed
it could only emanate from he
the glutton of cost
he gnawed at the presence of
all that is near
nothing was sacred in
the space placed between his ears
it is capsized by fear
it is desperate, with agony clear
a glint in his eye
the last star falls from his sky
vomit coated fingertips
cut between despondent lips
pity not the glutton of cost
whomst does not know to
cut his loss
he is the pitiful orphan
of his hopeless cause
oh glutton of cost
you are to blame
for all you have lost